


The Puddle

by worldtravellingfly



Series: Self Inserts [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Crack Treated Seriously, Dicks, Don't Do Magic After Consuming Magic Mushrooms, Dwarves, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Innuendo, It's accidental, Kidnapping, More tags to be added, Only not quite a Baby, Oops, Public Nudity, Puddles - Freeform, Self Insert, both literal and figurative, communal bath, enough said, misunderstandings galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-08-17 00:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16505885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldtravellingfly/pseuds/worldtravellingfly
Summary: Why Puddles (TM) are life-threatening.Warning: never consume mushrooms before attempting to use magic.Alt. Summary:“How did you even meet the poor child?” An expression of dawning realization mixed with horror crosses what little is visible of the Grey Guy's face, between his nose and beard. “You didn't abduct her, did you?”There's a beat of awkward silence.“Maybe. Just a little bit? It was an accident!”





	1. First Impressions (1)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I live. Uni has started up again. I earned some fun so that's why I'm finally posting this. Tell me what you think?

-1-

 

Okay, to preface the following events you should probably be aware of at least three things.

 

First of all, never, under any circumstances, _ever_ do magic when under the Influence. Just. _Don't_ . It never ends well for _innocent_ , poor, unsuspecting people.

 

Secondly, avoid stepping into any puddles at any cost. Cross the street, jump over them, _fly_ if you have to. Never _ever_ touch even seemingly harmless puddles.

 

So, watch where you're going.

 

Thirdly, a life without running, never mind _warm_ , water, actual toilets, deodorant, supermarkets, and sane people _sucks_.

 

All of the above combined leads us to this exchange:

 

“How did you even meet the poor child?” An expression of dawning realization mixed with horror crosses what little is visible of the Gray Guy’s face, between his impressive nose and beard. “You didn't abduct him, did you?”

 

There's a beat of awkward silence.

 

“Maybe,” Radagast hedges – or Uncle, these days, to the Poor Child – “Just a little bit? It was an accident!”

 

The hairy little men exchange looks to which the _child_ in question is utterly sympathetic.

 

She was just like that when she met Radagast the first time, although she couldn't understand a word he'd said back then. (Perhaps for the better…) It's a bit like having an embarrassing parent, but ten times worse, because you have to bring them to the cool kid’s slumber party and your crush is watching.

 

Not that she’s crushing on any of the hairy little men.

 

For one, they are a bit _too_ hairy for her taste. And stinking of sweat to high heaven, but one hardly notices these things after living in the middle of a forest with only Radagast as humanoid company.

 

Their general _style_ is a bit of an acquired taste as well, although she probably shouldn't throw metaphorical stones at anyone, considering her own clothes are homemade and Radagast's spares.

 

He's not exactly Stella McCartney, to say the least.

 

Her attention is recaptured by the exchange between the two old men when they suddenly switch languages. Which she only notices because the vowels sound differtent. 

 

Lingustics sucked, but Lily had learned  _that_ much at least before dropping out of English at uni.

 

“Are you taking them to Lord Elrond?” Radagast asks, making sure that only Lily could hear. 

 

Why, she had no clue.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I'll hold the Wargs off if you'd take Lily along. We were on our way to the Hidden Valley to seek some counsel.”

 

The gray guy blinks and then nods. “That's fair. I'll take care of her.”

 

Radagast motions for her to get off the sled and join the group of hairy little men.

 

Before she is out of his reach, he squeezes her shoulder, a small smile playing on his face.

 

“Take care.”

 

“Not the one trying to distract a horde of flesh-eating fuck ups,” Lily rightly points out, one eyebrow raised.

 

That earns her a pointed eyeroll, carefully hidden from their audience.

 

“No. Just traveling with your Uncle Gandalf and a company of Dwarrow.”

 

The face of the gray guy is a _picture_.

 

“Uncle Gandalf, eh?” He mutters into his beard.

 

Then the time for chit chat is over.

 

Lily hunkers down behind the boulders with the rest of the traveling group and sends a short prayer at whoever will listen to keep her only family-like person safe throughout this harebrained scheme.

 

She should have prayed for herself, but more on that later...


	2. First Impressions (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily meets Plum Adonis, Boss Beauty, and Limdur. Some wires get crossed. Or don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

-2-

 

When the dwarves figure out where they’re going, they almost mutiny. 

 

Which is not to say they did not grumble before or afterward, but it intensified. A lot.

 

Only some quick talking from “Uncle” Gandalf keeps that aforementioned rebellion at bay. For the moment.

 

Lily isn’t sure it’s completely off the table yet.

 

Either way, she tries to not listen too closely to their complaints. Their surroundings are much more interesting after all.

 

Waterfalls, a hidden valley, and beautiful architecture?

 

Count her in!

 

Anything other than a bloody fucking forest out to kill her would have had her heart beating faster, but this is a million times better. Almost like a realistic postcard painted of some sort of Disney castle.

 

The view only improves as they arrive at the foot of a long-ass staircase.

 

There are a few statues of warriors standing around, looking way too pretty to be real, but the living, breathing Adonis walking towards them isn’t all that bad either.

 

“Mithrandir,” Adonis greets Gray Guy, eyes warm.

 

Really must like good old Gandy then, Lily figures.

 

Meanwhile, she admires his fashion sense. Plum is a rather bold choice, especially for men. Never mind the length of those artistically tailored robes.

 

She tugs at her homespun cast offs and wonders what she’d have to do to get the name of his seamstress.

 

Lily would do anything for some clothes that were made to fit her. Or supportive underwear. (Her bra had given up on life a few eternities ago, sadly enough.)

 

And wrapping her chest in rags in the hopes it would keep the girls from bouncing around isn’t exactly ideal.

 

Sighing wistfully at the thought of online shops, she tunes back into the conversation at the sound of a horn being blown. Horse hooves grow louder in the distance, which could be a good or bad thing.

 

Judging by the huddle of short, hairy men, they seem to think it was a bad thing.

 

Gandalf, on the other hand, remains pretty chill.

 

For Gandalf, anyway.

 

Laila twitches a bit, and Lily put a calming hand on her head, settling her back down.

 

Then a veritable stampede occurs. Right there.

 

A parade’s worth of horses, beautiful horses, races into the courtyard or whatever it was supposed to be, and circles the short men.

 

Actual fucking banners flutter around her, held by the most aesthetically pleasing humanoid creatures Lily has ever seen. No, really.

 

Eat your heart out, supermodels of the world.

 

Gandy greets the boss beauty and they exclude the short hairy men by chattering in that language from earlier.

 

Lily lets her eyes feast on the newcomers, ignoring anything that doesn’t really concern her.

 

Radagast seems to have survived, so she’s good for the moment.

 

Some food, not prepared by herself because she’d learned the hard way  _never_ to let Radagast cook anything more complicated than water if she’d ever wanted to eat anything ever again, and a nice bath would be great too, but hey, she’d take what she could get.

 

Eventually, the eyes of Boss Beauty turn to her, as the group of angry shorties is escorted somewhere.

 

Plum Adonis is leading the way and seems to be praying under his breath.

 

Probably for patience.

 

Lily feels his pain.

 

“Mithrandir?”

 

“Lord Elrond,” BB has a name after all, imagine that, “this is Radagast’s,” Gandy hesitates.

 

Lily raises an eyebrow, trying to resist the urge to grin.

 

“I’m his adopted child, isn’t that right, _Uncle_ Gandalf?” 

 

Cue all the astonished blinks.

 

“Well, we bid you welcome here. Please allow Limdur to escort you to your accommodations for your stay here.”

 

“Thank you for your hospitality, despite all of us showing up unannounced with those, er, ugly cannibals in hot pursuit. It’s appreciated.”

 

Elrond’s eyes might be twinkling with mirth.

 

Then again, might be a trick of the light.

 

Lily turns and follows Limdur - poor guy, his name sounded like he could be a mainstream cheese brand - up the never ending stairs.

 

As if she’d needed more exercise today.

 

Limdur obviously had no clue what to do with her awesomeness and just led her to a room without speaking a single word.

 

Lily would have been impressed, but she was too busy staring at everything they passed.

 

Her artistically inclined self is practically in heaven. The immaculate craftsmanship in even the smallest details, the way every room was open and planned to allow the massive building to feel like the middle of nature while not actually being in the middle of a forest —

 

This is like a live-in art gallery.

 

That cultured part of her, which had wilted over however long she’s been in that forest without any connection to anything outside of it, is perking up.

 

Lily catches herself doing something akin to skipping down the corridors behind Limdur.

 

Eventually, they stop in front of a simply carved door. Which is to say, it isn’t overly decorated, but beautiful enough to almost make her ache.

 

Limdur waves her inside.

 

There’s a bed. An actual fucking _bed_.

 

Imladris just rose to her favorite place on this entire plane of existence.

 

The view out of the arched windows shows trees and a waterfall and Lily’s happy enough to dance a jig. (She restrains herself though.)

 

“Would you like a bath?”

 

It speaks!

 

And would she like a bath?

 

_HELL YES!_

 

Again, reminding herself to play it cool, Lily nods.

 

They leave behind her new room, and Laila who curled up on the pillow, traveling the most beautiful maze to ever exist, and end up passing another courtyard. (How many did one house need?)

 

The angry shorties have evidently decided to be _free_.

 

Free of convention, that is.

 

They’re frolicking naked in the fountain.

 

Lily gets a lot more than an eyeful and is never the same afterwards.

 

“I would rather not join them. Bit too...” She tries to think up a word to express her thoughts without becoming offensive.

 

Limdur shakes off his own trance, and nods quietly, understanding.

 

They move on, thank the stars.

 

She’s shown an underground grotto, fed by a natural hot spring. While utterly stunning, as everything else in this building, it seems some wires have been crossed.

 

Or not, as the case may be.

 

Because, hey, she’s got nothing against nudity and communal baths - living with an old mad wizard in a murderous forest cures one of such notions as modesty rather quickly - she thought that might not apply to others.

 

New people, new customs and all that rot.

 

Which is to say, she certainly appreciates all the other Adonises bathing in the large pond, but she’s missing the particular equipment everyone else is sporting.

 

Penises seem to be something even these people couldn’t make pretty.

 

They were just weird, even if the rest of you looked hot.

 

Meanwhile, Limdur has stripped down to his underwear - loin cloth knotted in a seemingly easy, but probably super complicated fashion - and is about to lose that as well.

 

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it. (Or anything else.)

 

Sighing, because this is actual hot water and when is she gonna get the chance again? Lily begins to take off her own clothes.

 

Limdur blinks - once - and then shows her the clean up station.

 

A bit like Japanese onsen, you’re apparently supposed to wash off first.

 

He hands her some soap and demonstrates how to wash hair.

 

Like in a L’Oréal commercial.

 

Lily bites her lip to keep from laughing. Because.  _This_ is her life now.

 

Bathing with a bunch of naked dudes hot enough to scorch the sun.

 

Maybe she should thank Radagast the next time she sees him.

 

Accidentally kidnapping her could be 100% forgiven in the face of  _this_ .

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since I am procrastinating studying anyway, I thought I'd give you something to enjoy. (:


	3. A Dinner Party With Elves, Dwarrow, Gandalf, and a Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily gets dressed again. And dinner is served. Thorin, as usual, isn't impressed. Gandalf's eyebrow game continues to be strong.

-3-

 

Lily makes the acquaintance of several very helpful if also very attractive males, who offer to fetch her anything she needs.

 

At one point she discreetly pinches herself. Just to make sure she hadn’t accidentally eaten one of Radagast’s mushroom dishes.

 

It turns out, this isn’t some sort of dream or the result of an involuntary trip. (Those are more likely than you’d think what with living in the same vicinity as Radagast and aforementioned murderous forest.)

 

When they’re clean and relaxed, Limdur shows her where the equivalent of bathing robes are kept.

 

They’re more elegant than your average terry robe though. Oh, are they ever. And made from the _softest_ fabric.

 

The water dripping from her hair is caught by the robe and absorbed. Without it becoming water clogged.

 

It’s the eighth world wonder.

 

Lily wants to steal one.

 

Limdur nods his approval and leads the way out.

 

This time, they end up in a well-lit suite.

 

A female – equally as attractive as everyone she’s seen so far – glides toward them.

 

Limdur explains: “This young lady has just arrived with the other travelers and is in need of some clothing befitting both her station as an honored guest as well as her relation to Mithrandir. Is there anything you can alter in time for the evening meal, Anira?”

 

The lady eyes Lily, circling her. “Yes, I believe so. Now then, dear. I have several dresses you can choose from.”

 

Limdur – like any male anywhere, apparently – flees.

 

Lily beams at her savior and plans to imprint anything useful she observes into her brain. Because clothes that fit would be worth any indignity she’d suffer through to learn how to make them to her specifications.

 

“Now that we are among ourselves, let us begin with the essentials. Do you own any underwear not fit for the rags bin?”

 

Lily grimaces. “No?”

 

“Then we shall begin there. Allow me to measure you, dear.”

 

Since shucking off her clothes would be seen as a _bit_ too eager, Lily takes her time. Also, bathing is one thing. Standing still, while naked, in front of a fully dressed person isn’t exactly something she enjoys doing regularly.

 

Huh, some of that shyness or sense of modesty seems to have survived after all.

 

Anira measures her with a rope knotted at certain intervals. When she is finished, she whistles and two somehow younger seeming females show up.

 

“You called, mistress?”

 

“This Child is a guest of honor at tonight’s banquet, however she requires at least one of _everything_. I want one of you to fashion underwear. The other shall make a shift, while I’ll alter one of the dresses for Lady Arwen.” Anira turns back to Lily. “While we work, you shall be escorted to Lady Arwen. She will know what else you may require and from where.”

 

Lily just hopes Gandalf has enough cash on him to pay for all of this generosity.

 

Radagast certainly doesn’t have the coins for shopping excursions. Especially not any as extravagant as this.

 

* * *

 

 

Limdur escorts her to the gardens.

 

Low, muted music provides some background noise. Someone is singing. A few beautiful ladies are dancing elegantly, sort of like grass swaying in the wind.

 

He bows and waits until he’s recognized.

 

A female even more breathtaking than anyone else Lily’s seen so far looks up from her embroidery hoop and gives a small cry of delight. “Oh, dear! Please do join us. How are you feeling?”

 

A flurry of activity follows, which somehow involves all the other pretty ladies lavishing attention on her.

 

Not that Lily would complain. Ever.

 

Whatever these people are, other than  super-humanly beautiful, they all seem to have a thing for fussing over others. Or just her. 

 

The angry shorties don’t seem too enthusiastic about the pretties and vice versa. That much she has noticed, despite all the widely available _distractions_.

 

Within moments, the flurry of activity settles.

 

There’s the prettiest lady combing her (still) wet hair, tutting sadly about the split ends and telling one of the others to gather something.

 

Another is wrapping some string around her fingers, ready to attack Lily’s eyebrows.

 

One of the others is sent to gather flowers.

 

“Don’t you worry, child. We shall take good care of you,” the boss lady tells her.

 

Lily isn’t sure how this happens – or _why_ , for that matter – but she thinks she might be able to suffer through these sort of _hardships_ for a while. Or forever.

 

Maybe one of the people living here is looking for a platonic life partner?

 

Then again, they seem obsessed with the idea that Lily was a child, despite being in the possession of all secondary sexual traits.

 

Well, she’d let them keep calling her a child if she’d get free food, an actual bed, and a warm bath out of the deal.

 

Gandalf could pick up the tab for everything else.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite Lily’s doubts, the three sewing fairies manage to finish her underwear and dress in enough time to get changed for dinner without making everyone wait on her.

 

Not that they would, but punctuality is still a thing. An important one.

 

Especially if one can’t pay for all the finery being lavished upon one.

 

Limdur has apparently been designated as tourist herder, because he comes to get her from her room.

 

Unfortunately, Lady Arwen has other duties, so she won’t join the super secret supper.

 

Lily thanks her for everything.

 

Afterward, straightening her shoulders, she follows her guide through the maze of hallways.

 

They climb a great many stairs and eventually end up standing at the doorway to a large balcony.

 

A table has been set up there, in the middle, for vertically challenged people. There’s a second, smaller one for those of heights above one meter.

 

Gandalf sees her and waves her over, a pipe puffing away.

 

In a corner, several musicians are setting up their instruments.

 

A few more of the gorgeous guys are lining the walls. Limdur proceeds to join them, assuming all the expression of a living statue.

 

Lily slips onto the chair next to Gandalf, at the end of the table.

 

There’s an empty chair on the other side of the table, a little higher than usual.

 

Lord Elrond is sitting at the head of the massive wooden construct, taking everything in. Or more like, taking  _her_ in.

 

“I hope you are comfortable here,” he tells her.

 

Lily considers him, smiling because she’s a girl and that makes her seem a lot less threatening. “I am. Thank you. It’s the most peaceful, confounding place I’ve ever been.”

 

Which is saying something, because she’s been to Montmartre, Paris, before and her friend had had an unhealthy fascination with those tiny back alleys.

 

Lord Elrond dips his head a bit in acknowledgment or polite suffering. Could be either or.

 

Gandalf snorts. “You have all of the tact and diplomatic skills of a rampaging ram.”

 

In response, Lily just raises an eyebrow. “I must have gotten it from your side of the family then.”

 

That draws a laugh out of her new “uncle”.

 

Laila startles a bit, but relaxes soon enough. Hiding her head under a few folds of fabric,  so no one would see her . The poor dear is tired.

 

“A gift of Radagast’s?” Gandalf inquires, eyebrow game strong. (But when isn't it?)

 

Lily snorts. “No, not really. Laila just decided to hang around after I patched up her leg. She hasn’t left yet.”

 

The fox was curled up, about ready to sleep.

 

Soft music fills the air, nothing complicated. A soothing tune.

 

The hairy men are apparently called Dwarrow, who arrive in a group, like a pack of middle-school teens about to engage in shady dealings (i.e. gossip).

 

Their leader, the one with the expressive blue eyes and impressive mane of black-gray hair, sits with Lord Elrond the Longsuffering and Gandalf.

 

When he notices her, which, admittedly, isn’t all that hard considering she’s sitting _right next_ to the guy who has condemned him to spending time in a place he really doesn’t want to be in, his eyes widen.

 

Not a lot, to be fair, and without her glasses, Lily probably wouldn’t have been able to notice it.

 

Then he sends a questioning look to Gandalf.

 

“Thorin, allow me to introduce my niece officially. This is Lily, Radagast’s daughter. Lily, this is Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain.”

 

There’s a flash of some emotion on his face, but it’s gone before she can identify it.

 

Instead he bows his head regally in her direction.

 

Lily, bemoaning the fact that a) Radagast has never prepared her for this, and b) that her best friend would never know how useful watching Pride and Prejudice movies might actually turn out to be, reciprocates.

 

It’s ten shades of awkward, but she’s hoping that having Radagast as a “dad” will grant her some leeway.

 

Also, she’s never ever going to tell anyone that Lily isn’t her real name.

 

 


	4. Revelations & Misconceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf almost chokes on his pipe. Elrond's eyebrow twitches. Lily cannot *believe* these old men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No copyright infringement intended.

-4-

 

Lily focuses her attention on the Dwarrow seated at the other table. Basically, because they’re free entertainment.

 

Who needs television if they can watch a group of super hairy men tease each other – and everyone else – mercilessly?

 

When the first food items sail through the air, King Thorin looks like he wants to join in. Especially when the guy next to Limdur crinkles his nose.

 

However, Thorin, unlike his fanboys, restrains himself.

 

Lily can practically feel the sigh Gandalf wants to release.

 

Meanwhile, Lord Elrond just raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t seem overly fazed.

 

Which is probably a good thing, considering that they rely on his goodwill to shelter and feed them. At least for tonight.

 

Lily dodges a bread roll by a hair’s breath.

 

All that fighting off ugly ass spiders for however long it’s been must have been good for something at least. Who would have guessed.

 

She takes off her glasses, cleaning them with the edge of one of the folds of fabric. There’s more than enough to go around, what with her heavy dress.

 

Well, heavy to her.

 

Something goes  _splat_ against the balcony balustrade behind her. 

 

That cannot have been an accident.

 

As she’s reaching for ammunition of her own, Gandalf sends her a glare out of the corner of his eyes.

 

She’s impressed enough, her hand goes back to resting in her lap.

 

Gandalf nods, almost imperceptible.

 

Probably a good thing.

 

Laila tries to hide in one of the float-y sleeves, but only manages to get her paw stuck. Sneezing, the poor dear burrows into her lap as best as she can.

 

Lily pets her gently, hoping it will help to soothe her.

 

Since that doesn’t do much, Lily retreats to under the table, wrapping her little companion into her dress as best as she can.

 

Laila licks her cheek in thanks, then continues to whimper in fear.

 

It’s starting to lose the amused edge and becoming highly annoying.

 

Lily isn’t sure how long exactly she’s been hiding under the furniture for, but eventually the Dwarrow move along.

 

Still singing merrily.

 

Taking that as her cue, she climbs out from under the table. Besides, her butt is not only numb, but also cold.

 

Curling up in a nice, comfortable bed sounds like a dream come true.

 

Much to her surprise, Gandalf is still there, offering her a hand up.

 

They look at each other.

 

It must make for quite a ridiculous sight: one tall – at least a good 1,80 meters or more, plus the hat – and a short-haired, bespectacled young woman not that much shorter than him in a dress fit for a fairy tale princess.

 

They’re complete opposites of each other.

 

Even more surprisingly, Lord Elrond is also still around. He seems to be waiting for something.

 

“Dear, do you feel yourself capable of answering some of our questions?” Gandalf asks. Judging by the small frown and clear gaze directed at her, he’s worried and curious.

 

Laila, still curled up in her arms, and Lily exchange a look.

 

Shrugging, carefully, she agrees.

 

Looks like that appointment with her feather-stuffed furniture has to wait for a bit.

 

“Not sure how much help I can be, but I will do my best,” Lily promises, making sure to meet and hold Gandalf’s gaze directly.

 

Lord Elrond smiles, well, his lips twitch minutely, and then he turns to lead the way.

 

Limdur follows behind, the perfect impersonation of a demented shadow.

 

Gandalf offers her his arm and wraps a hand reassuringly around her own.

 

In the meantime, Laila has settled on Lily’s shoulders like a queen would on her throne. She’s carefully watching everything, sniffing the air occasionally.

 

But since there’s less rowdiness thanks to the absence of the Dwarrow, she’s calmed down considerably.

 

As it turns out, Lord Elrond has led them to what appears to be his own study.

 

He offers her a seat, and some wine from a decanter.

 

She takes the first, but not the second offer. Wine, if she remembers correctly, tastes like shit to her.

 

Meanwhile, Gandalf takes a seat by the bay window, lighting his pipe.

 

Once everyone has all the fortifications they require, the inquisition begins.

 

“How come you to live with Radagast? He’s quite isolated, there in his part of the forest,” Lord Elrond asks, eyes searching her face.

 

For what, only he knows.

 

Lily shrugs. “I fell through a puddle.”

 

Gandalf and Lord Elrond exchange a Look.

 

They don’t believe her. Who, with any kernel of common sense, would?

 

She rolls her shoulders, fingering the armrest of her chair with one hand.

 

“It’s true. I was on my way home from the place I used to work at and slipped. It had been raining rather badly and I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have. One of the rabbits found me in the forest, luckily, or I probably would not have survived.”

 

There’s a moment of silence.

 

“Work?” Gandalf inquires mildly.

 

In response, Lily shrugs again. What was so hard to understand about that statement? “Yes. A person has to make a living somehow, you know?”

 

Lord Elrond looks ready to retort something, but tilts his head instead.

 

Ah, Gandalf probably  _wouldn’t_ know. 

 

“And which was your profession?” Their host asks, seeming more curious than judgmental.

 

“I was the head of the bar department at a large inn.”

 

Gandalf chokes on his pipe smoke.

 

Lord Elrond places the wine glass back on his table.

 

Frowning, she looks from one to the other. What had gotten stuck in their craw now? Hey, she really had to make a living somehow, okay? There was no one else to pay her bills for her.

 

Slowly, realization dawns on her.

 

“I’ll have you know that that is a respectable position to have! Even if I had to serve some ungrateful people, there’s _nothing_ to be ashamed about,” she insists, glaring at the two idiot men.

 

Lord Elrond does manage to keep his face expressionless.

 

Gandalf not so much.

 

“You seem surprisingly healthy for your – profession,” Lord Elrond tells her, examining her from head to toe, sincerely.

 

Not that there’s much to see.

 

Lily frowns a bit. “Well, I’ve had some trouble with my hands and knees, but that’s normal I’m told. As you get older, the back and shoulders are more affected though.”

 

Then, Lord Elrond blinks.

 

Gandalf resumes trying for the best humanoid impersonation of a chimney.

 

Laila settles into her lap, curling up and going to sleep.

 

“Your hands?”

 

Lily shrugs. “Well, those tankards are pretty heavy. Especially if you have to carry a lot of them at once. And wrestling those beer kegs isn’t easy.”

 

Then she looks from one to the other.

 

“Wait, what did you think I meant?”

 

Neither of the males is meeting her eyes.

 

Somewhere in the distance, she’s almost sure she can hear crickets chirp.

 

Lord Elrond gets up from his seat, reaching out for her hands.

 

Lily allows him to hold them.

 

He turns them over, examining them for damage or something.

 

“They seem to have healed well.”

 

She nods. “It took more than two weeks, a lot of medication, and resting my hands as much as possible.”

 

Gandalf puts out his pipe, but the stem returns to his mouth. “How could you possibly afford that?”

 

“We have a thing called health insurance. Every month, a certain amount of money will be deducted from your salary and when you are sick, they pay for the healer and most if not all of the medication required.”

 

“Do you have to pay the same amount regardless of the state of your health?”

 

“Well, yes. It only works if everyone pays, so if one day you’re sick, you don’t have to starve to get what you need to survive. And everyone pays because everyone gets sick or has an accident at some point.”

 

“That’s fascinating. I’ve never heard of such a thing from humans before,” Lord Elrond muses.

 

Lily smiles. “Some people believe that health insurance is a privilege, not a necessity. However, I believe that it is a right.”

 

Lord Elrond’s mouth ticks up in a small smile. At least someone seems to approve.

 

Gandalf hums, eyes directed at the outside world.

 

“What of your family? Have they not supported you?”

 

She grimaces before she can stop herself. The thought of her parents still stings. “My family? My  _true_ family supports me in all endeavors. They have always been there for me, no matter what plagues them. But if you’re asking about my blood family, I must disappoint. They think very little of my chosen profession, or most of them do. I am the black in a herd of white sheep to them.”

 

The true extent of how much she really doesn’t care for those people, she keeps to herself.

 

There’s no response to that. None is forthcoming either.

 

“And your husband?” Gandalf wonders.

 

That manages to startle a laugh out of Lily. It sounds a bit desperate or hysterical to her ear, so she’s not sure what they’re thinking.

 

“I am not made for marriage, dear Uncle. There’s no one back there, waiting for me. Neither husband nor children. Much to the added disappointment of my relatives. No one has ever asked me to dance, much less proposed marriage to me. Men in general do not appreciate women that are smart, outspoken, and as riddled with drama as I am.”

 

Gandalf frowns, pipe disappearing from his mouth into his hand.

 

“How old are you, Child?”

 

She shrugs. “No idea. I fell through the Puddle when I was 22 years old, but I have lost all track of time since then. I’m sure I’ve been here for long enough to say I’m closer to 30 than 20, but anything more, I do not know.”

 

“When were you born?” Lord Elrond intervenes, also frowning. “Perhaps we can aid you.”

 

“I was born in November, in the year 1994 of our reckoning. Since I’m fairly positive that this is a completely different world, I’m not sure how much that helps.”

 

Silence reigns.

 

Gandalf peers at her from under his hat. “Perhaps Lord Elrond might examine you in detail and give us an estimate.”

 

“Radagast would not know?” said lord wonders, but then seems to shake his head in answer to his own question.

 

Lily smiles wryly. “I’d assume not.”

 

“How come you speak Sindarin so well? If you are from a different world, I would think that your native tongue is different.”

 

“It is indeed,” she nods. “And Sindarin is the name of this language? Radagast and I had to learn how to communicate with each other, but he tends to switch languages unconsciously. It took an eternity until we could somewhat manage.”

 

An image of a grumbling Radagast talking to himself early in the morning comes back to mind. It is one of the earliest memories she has of him.

 

Lord Elrond and Gandalf exchange yet another look.

 

“If one is not raised by someone speaking Sindarin, it takes years to reach the sort of fluency you have achieved. Are you literate as well?”

 

She focuses on the Healer. “In Sindarin? Or in general?”

 

That earns her appraising looks from both of them.

 

“I can read and write between five or seven languages of my own world, but I’m not sure how many I even speak of this world. It could be dialects...” Lily shakes her head. “Radagast has only taught me the basics in two alphabets. I’m not sure how much that helps.”

 

Lord Elrond smiles. A true, sincere, smile.

 

“Very good. Would you agree to the examination tomorrow morning? We might continue our discussion after we have obtained some new knowledge. One of my best scholars, Erestor, is also gifted with the talent to learn languages. Perhaps he will be able to aid you as well.”

 

Lily tilts her head, but nods eventually. “I’m very grateful for all you are doing for me and your hospitality, my lord.”

 

He inclines his own back at her. “You are welcome, Lady Lily.”

 

Laila snores, huffing, and settles back down.

 

It is time for sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> PS: You can follow me on Twitter under the same name now.

**Author's Note:**

> No copyright infringement intended.


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